Night of the Hackney Dead – Zombies on the Lea Canal

Night of the Hackney Dead – Zombies on the Lea Canal

It was a slow October evening. I couldn’t login to anything. Tweets took forever to load. Videos buffered endlessly. Even Facebook’s stream of baby photos and status updates ground to a halt. What a nightmare. There was little point staying indoors. I put on a jacket and wandered down to Hackney marshes. At night...
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Labra-Fackin’-Doodles on Reservoir Ridge

Labra-Fackin’-Doodles on Reservoir Ridge

I’m not one to engage with strangers. On the marshes I like to keep my eyes open and my mouth shut. But as soon as I saw them, I knew I’d have to speak. They were sat on reservoir ridge overlooking the path. She was standing by the bench in a tracksuit, smoking. Her hair was...
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Sucking on Empties Beneath Hackney’s Pylons

Sucking on Empties Beneath Hackney’s Pylons

Rat-a-tat-tat. “Lemme in you fuckers.” Rat-a-tat-tat. “What is wrong with this country? Can’t a man get a pint in the morning anymore?” RAT-A-TAT-TAT. This was me four years ago trying to get into a the Prince George in Dalston at 11am on a Sunday morning, after a sleepless night poisoning my blood with alcohol and...
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Timequake on Mare Street: A psychic investigation of the buses at Hackney Central

Timequake on Mare Street: A psychic investigation of the buses at Hackney Central

This story originally appeared on The London Report, a blend of features, essays and fiction set in London. It’s an excellent website and worth a visit here. It was an overcast Tuesday morning in Clapton and my dog needed a haircut. The groomer was in Bethnal Green. So I hopped onto the number 254...
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I’m disappointed that all this dog-walking on Hackney Marshes has led me to no dead bodies

I’m disappointed that all this dog-walking on Hackney Marshes has led me to no dead bodies

If the news is to be believed, there are two fast-track ways to find a corpse: jogging and dog-walking. Chronic back pain and laziness means that jogging is out of the question. But a dog, I have. He’s called Hendrix. He has a brain the size of a pea, but a nose that can...
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Keith Fullerton Whitman & the Deep Topography of the London Sky

Keith Fullerton Whitman & the Deep Topography of the London Sky

A soundchronicity experiment with Keith Fullerton Whitman’s album Generator I’m sick of the way my head swivels about on my neck. Left to right… right to left… straight ahead. I spend my days looking around at things: cars, trees, strangers, walls, the contents of my fridge, the expression of concern on my family’s faces. Yes,...
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